Checkmate
by M K Stern
Summary: An introspective ficlet from Jareth's point of view.


It seems like an ordinary chess board: 64 red and white squares, two sets of sixteen pieces facing each other

It seems like an ordinary chess board: 64 red and white squares, two sets of sixteen pieces facing each other. The pieces and board are wood, nothing special. It stands in the corner my room, looking almost shabby against the rest of my finery.

In my world, nothing is nearly as ordinary as it seems. Go on, touch the board. Pick a piece. The board is not so ordinary any longer is it? Not when the pieces take on faces familiar to you. Perhaps they even take your own face. The board becomes a scene you remember, the game is your life, and you are watching it played. It tells you things you never knew about the incident, words you never heard spoken, important things that may make you regret your actions.

Life is a game of chess. It takes careful maneuvering, but if you have enough foresight you always win. That was my philosophy. But now, I am not so sure, and there is a simple reason for it.

I lost.

Moreover, I lost to a girl. And not just any girl. This was a 15-year-old who had probably never once in her life given any thought to strategy. And yet, she beat me at my own game, when the rules where against her and she should have had no chance to win.

I touch the board, the pieces take shape.

The White King has become me. Around me, my white goblin pawns vie for attention. My white knights await my orders, and my white castles are my bastions. I have a full army at my command.

She is red. There are two red pieces clearly visible on the board, the king and the queen. Her king is at the very center of my army, with me. He is a squalling baby. He is her goal. She is the Red Queen, and she starts the game alone.

The board has changed to. No longer is it red and white squares. Now it is a sprawling labyrinth with a castle. Her king and I are in the castle. She is outside the labyrinth, as far away as it is possible for her to be from her destination. I have made my play, it is now her move.

Her moves are chaos. There is no sense to them. She obviously does not understand the game at all. But, none the less, she tries to play. She does not give up, though the game is rigged against her and she knows it. There is something to be admired about that.

My moves are made deliberately, almost in mockery of her. It is obvious that I could end this game at any time, yet I humor her, make her think she has a fighting chance. I don't just want to defeat her; I want her to give up. I want her to relinquish all claims on the red king. I want her to forfeit. I toy with her, putting small victories in her grasp only to snatch them away a few seconds later. It should discourage her. Instead, she makes the most of them. Rather than making her feel defeated, it only increases her determination. It is most discouraging.

At the beginning, there were only two red pieces visible. As the game goes on, it becomes apparent that the labyrinth is full of hidden red pieces. All she has to do is find them and free them. She doesn't find every one. After all, she can't travel the whole labyrinth. Yet, I am surprised at how well she does at gaining them. Challengers rarely gain one ally. To gain more than one is unheard of. However, I am not worried. Her few allies barely seem a match for my army.

Then she breaks the rules.

I know what happened. I know when it happened. I even know why it happened. This knowledge never helps with the defeat I still feel.

You see, in chess, you can capture your opponent's pieces. You can trap them. You can kill them. You cannot, however, make them switch sides. I thought it was so with my labyrinth.

I was wrong.

Because, very soon after she escapes the oubliette, one of my pristine white pieces begins to show hints of red. I don't even notice it at first. However, as the game goes on, it begins to show more. As a peach changes hands between a pawn and a king, the white only slightly overpowers the red. As the peach goes from the pawn to the queen, white and red are equal. By the time the red queen has reached my city, the piece shows only the barest hint of white.

This should not have happened. That was _my_ piece. Her other allies were hers to claim as soon as she could free them. This piece was mine, had always been mine, and should have always been mine. And yet, it has switched sides.

Why is obvious. She is Sarah. She is spirited, imaginative, even beautiful, and she just doesn't give up. To earn her attention would be more than worth it.

The game freezes as she runs up the stairs to the Escher room. I carefully pick up the traitorous piece and glare at the familiar figure. He glares back, no white left in his face. He is hers now.

I sigh and put the piece back on the board. The game resumes, but it is meaningless now. Even if she does not realize it, she has already won.

After all, white cannot win if it has no king.

Checkmate.


End file.
